


Call Me Maybe

by Talianna_ (Talianna)



Series: Wrong Number [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, DailyAU, Hartwin, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Wrong Number AU, all of this is Canon-Typical, basically me using tumblr prompts by DailyAU for Hartwin, literally only two words so nothing major here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talianna/pseuds/Talianna_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>‘I called the wrong number and started talking about my life and you only interrupted me after a few minutes of me revealing some pretty personal stuff and now you’re invested in my life troubles’ AU</b> by <em>theapplepielifestyle</em> from <em>dailyau</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: very light mentions of domestic violence, drug abuse, forced prostitution, homophobia (really, this is mostly just implied and mentioned once or twice, I just wanted to, well, warn you I guess)

**‘I called the wrong number and started talking about my life and you only interrupted me after a few minutes of me revealing some pretty personal stuff and now you’re invested in my life troubles’ AU** by _theapplepielifestyle_ from _dailyau_

* * *

 

 

Eggsy had been slowly sipping on maybe his second pint that evening, savouring it and delighting in it languidly and responsibly.

 

 Well, that’s what he would say should anyone ask him about the circumstances that led him into this situation, namely staring into a glass of the drink that had caused all of this mess, with a posh handsome bloke sitting across from him at The Black Prince.

 

 As it was, only 20 hours earlier in the same bar, he had been gulping down his sixth pint in record time with only half of it dribbling out the corners of his mouth and running down his chin. He emptied the tall glass in one go, not even waiting until the head of the beer had settled, instead letting the white foam sit on his Cupid’s bow, brushing it away with the sleeve of his jacket once he downed the beer and put the glass down on the bar quite loudly. 

 

“Another!” He demanded, his mate Jamal merely rolling his eyes at Eggsy's antics as he dried the clean glasses behind the bar. It was a rather quiet evening, after all it was a Tuesday and it wasn’t even 9pm, so Jamal didn’t have many clients to serve, save for Eggsy and Dean’s goons. 

 

“You’re bloody pissed, mate. You ain’t gettin’ another pint from me tonight.” Jamal shook his head, putting away the dried glasses and ignoring the loud groan slash whine coming from the bar.

 

“I ain’t pissed, I only had what? Like maybe two p-”, he hiccuped. “Pints? I’m the sobe- sobest person in this es-establishment.” He mumbled the last word to the point where it was nearly unintelligible and Jamal laughed out loud. 

 

“Sure, bruv. You’re the _sobest_. Still not getting nothin’ from me, Gaz.”

 

“Come on, help a bruv out, I had a fucking shit day.” He whined, puppy eyes and all, but Jamal didn’t fall for it.

 

“I might be the barkeeper but I ain’t list’ning to your sob story. Try Rox. Though I guess she’ll be less than happy to hear you got pissed again.”

 

Eggsy groaned, his head falling onto the arms he had folded on top of the bar and he mumbled into the worn wood. “You’s a shit mate.”

 

Well, maybe he whined rather loudly, because the barkeeper had heard him and raised an eyebrow. “I’m that kind of mate that let’s you get pissed on tab so don’ come fo’ me.”

 

“Yeah, alright.” Eggsy mumbled, more exhausted now than seconds ago.

 

“Oi, Gaz!”, Jamal nudged him, noticing his friend was about to fall asleep. Eggsy raised his head until his chin was propped up on his crossed arms and looked up to his friend - or tried, really, because his eyes just wouldn’t focus.

 

He stared on, confused when he noticed Jamal putting a filled glass in front of him. “You know I’d offer to call a cab, but you’re completely skint and I ain’t about to pay for that too, so how bout you sober up an’ go home?”

 

Eggsy stared at the glass, his finger tracing its surface, smearing the little drops of condensation around, spelling out his name. “Sorry, mate, can’t pay fo’ this, I’m skint, ‘member?” He pushed the glass of water back, not feeling in the mood to sober up.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s tap so it’s buckshee.” Jamal grinned at him and Eggsy huffed and rolled his eyes. Finally, he grabbed the glass - because he knew Jamal would keep insisting until Eggsy had downed it and promised to go home - and drunk it all up.

 

 He slid from the stool, only slightly swaying on his feet before he zipped up his jacket, nodded to Jamal and ignored Rottweiler and Poodle barking from the sidelines as he passed Dean’s goons on his way out.

 

Eggsy had been exhausted and all he wanted to do was drink his worries under the table, but as usual it didn’t quite play out the way he’d like. 

 

With his head hanging low, the cap covering his face, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket where his right hand found his phone. After a minute or so of consideration and playing around with it, he pulled it out.

 

 Maybe Jamal was right. Maybe he had to vent. And Roxy would help, she always did. Also, he wasn’t _totally_ pissed, right? Roxy wouldn’t even notice.

 

He squinted, eyes barely able to make out the numbers on the display as he punched in her number - why the hell didn’t he just save her number, one might ask. Well, Dean had this habit of stealing his phone and calling his friends randomly when Eggsy went out with them, demanding Eggsy to come home and do something for him, threatening them or just generally being a dick. Also, Eggsy had noticed that having saved people’s numbers in his phone was of no use when he was in trouble; as soon as he had no access to the phone, he lost all access to them, so it was really better to just memorise their numbers and spare them from Dean.

 

Eggsy was exceptionally bad at multitasking when drunk, so when he was physically unable to dial her number and walk simultaneously, he leant against the brick wall of a club, phone close to his face as he was finally able to punch in the eleven numbers.

 

He raised his phone to his ear, waiting patiently for her to answer and was quickly losing hope, before the ring-back tone died and Eggsy all but jumped into his monologue.

 

“Thank fuck you picked up, I’m bout to go bonkers over ‘ere.” He started, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the ground; it wasn’t exactly clean, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“You know, I been close to smashing his ‘ead in for real this time, he was yellin’ at me mum, makin’ poor Daisy cry again, an’ I- I jus’ didn’t fuckin’ know what to do, ‘specially when mum started to defend the bastard again when he ‘ad me at knife’s point, literally, an’ she was just standing there and telling me not to hit ‘im, tellin’ me to go, so I went to The Black Prince for a pint... I jus’ can’t understand why the fuck she’s dealin’ with him an’ won’t let me get rid of him at last.” Eggsy groaned, letting his head fall back against the cold wall. “I mean I _know_. After dad died on that mission.. you know, it ain’t _easy_. Won’t be easy. But I can’t let Daisy be raised by scum like ‘im, listenin’ to words like ‘fag’ an’ ‘batty’ be thrown ‘round like they’re fucking confetti, you get me? And sure as fuck I won’t let ‘er believe that sellin’ yourself to pay for Dean’s drugs is acceptable, ‘cause for fuck’s sake, I never felt wor-”

 

The clearing of a throat - a startling deep sound - broke him off quite suddenly and Eggsy shut up immediately, eyes widening. 

 

“R-Roxy?” He breathed after a second, unsure, his heart beating wildly.

 

“I’m afraid not.” A smooth, deep voice replied and all the colour drained from Eggsy’s face. He gulped. Fucking hell.

 

“Erm, _fuck_. I-I mean... erm sorry mate, I was meanin’ to call a friend.” He scratched his head and felt the beginnings of what was promising to be a killer headache take roots in his left temple as the alcohol's buzz was starting to wear off. Bugger. 

 

“Yes, I assumed as much.” The voice spoke without missing a beat, somehow intimidating yet almost amused. Eggsy couldn’t fathom how listening to some stranger’s pathetic sob story - as Jamal had put it - could amuse anyone.

 

“Yeah, must’ve messed up the numbers or somethin’, ain’t that easy to type an’ try not to walk into somethin’ at the same time, let me tell you that.” He let out a laugh, heart hammering in his chest and the colour returned to his face at once, as embarrassment flooded his body when he heard the soft, obviously amused timbre of the man’s laugh.

 

“Quite.” He agreed, and Eggsy once again let his head fall against the wall, this time harder, which he regretted immediately. He let out a slight, quiet groan, but it seemed as if the mystery man had a perfect sense of hearing, because he noticed it despite how quiet it was.

 

“Are you alright?” He inquired immediately, the worry in his voice apparent and somehow weirdly warming Eggsy from the inside.

 

“What? Oh yeah, I’m alright.” He confirmed right away and quite convincing - after all he did have enough practice with answering this particular question. When the man didn’t respond - the silence almost accusing, as if he wasn’t convinced by the lie - Eggsy tried again. “My mate says I’m pissed but I just had two pints or so, i’m perfetc- perfectly fine.”

 

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, a flock of blokes came barreling out the side entrance of the club, completely hammered as they started to walk along the wall, closing in on him. They were loud, howling and roaring and Eggsy’s head might as well have exploded. 

 

“Oi, how much for a blowie, love?” One of them catcalled and Eggsy rolled his eyes, sadly used to blokes like him and that type of a come-on.

 

 He raised his head, his hand - the one not holding his phone - sliding into his pocket and procuring a pocketknife, with which he toyed around idly, an eyebrow raised. His movements weren’t as fluid as they usually were, after all he might’ve been a bit more pissed than he assumed, but combined with the cut along his cheek - courtesy of Dean - and his manic grin, he was very much intimidating.

 

“I’ll bite it off for free.” Eggsy said, purposely adapting a tone much deeper and darker than before and watched with satisfaction as his friends pulled the idiot away from him. Eggsy chuckled lightly as he watched them disappear around a corner.

 

“Are you alright?” All of a sudden, he was reminded of a witness to his antics - albeit only an auditory one and one he didn’t even know, but still it made his palms sweat again while he continued to play with the knife, which was oddly calming. 

 

“Oh, yeah, that was just a couple blokes, totally hammered and harmless.” Eggsy explained, trying to pacify the worry in the man’s voice.

 

“Yes, but are you _safe_?” He insisted, an exasperated edge to his tone now, which confused and intrigued Eggsy.

 

“I mean, it _is_ London. You’re never really safe here, are you?” Eggsy chuckled but was not rewarded with an answering laugh from the other end of the call. Instead, there it was again, this accusing silence, as if the man didn’t appreciate Eggsy’s joke and somehow, the boy wanted to remedy that.

 

“Nah, I’m serious, I ain’t in no danger - _fuck_.” He hissed and his knife clattered to the ground.

 

“What is wrong? What happened?” 

 

Eggsy groaned - in pain and embarrassment. He sure hoped that he would never meet this bloke - whoever he was - because this call was probably the worst hybrid of awkwardness and embarrassment Eggsy ever had to witness. And worst of all, it was happening to him rather than Jamal or Ryan as they were unsuccessfully trying to pick up birds. 

 

“Nothin’”, he murmured, raising his hand to his mouth and sucking on his thumb. “Cut myself with a knife.” He sucked in the skin between his teeth, biting down on it.

 

When his actual joke didn’t get the reaction he had hoped for, his clumsiness and the accident did. The man on the other end chuckled and Eggsy could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

 

“I’m starting to think that you are a safety hazard to yourself, Gary.”

 

Eggsy groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, heard that one a couple times.” He mumbled, putting away the knife and getting to his feet. He was significantly less shaky on his feet than half an hour ago as the buzz was wearing off. 

 

“Wait a second”, he mumbled, once again leaning against the wall. “How d’you know my name?”

 

There was a pause. “You told me.” The man said with conviction and Eggsy would have believed it, if it weren’t for the pause. If there was one thing he had learned about him from their phone call, it was that this mystery man - whatever his name was - never missed a beat when it came to conversing. 

 

“I didn’t.” Eggsy stated, listened intently as the man inhaled, but interrupted him before he could continue with his excuse, probably something along the lines of _you’re drunk, you wouldn’t remember_. “If I did, I would’ve told you I hated Gary and prefered Eggsy. And I would’ve asked for yours in return.”

 

Another pause. Eggsy’s eyes were squinted as he waited for an answer. 

 

“I’m Harry Hart.”

 

Which was not the answer he expected but one he appreciated anyway. Before Eggsy could respond to that, the man - _Harry_ \- continued. “It’s late... _Eggsy_ , I think you should head... _home_.” He sad the last word with an edge of aversion to it, as if he knew how much Eggsy despised calling that flat a home.

 

Wait, he _did_ know. After all, Eggsy had all but delineated his family situation to a total stranger. A total stranger that had somehow found out his name. That was some serious 007 shit. 

 

“Yeah, well _I_ think you should tell me what the _fuck_ is going on and how you know my name.” Eggsy returned, not ready to let him off the hook so easily. "You from the MI6 or somethin'?"

 

There it was again, this amused, infuriating chuckle. “How about we do this over a pint of Guinness?”

 

Eggsy stopped breathing for a second, unwilling to believe this total _stranger,_  possibly agent, probably nutterhad just asked him out... on a _date_?

 

“Wha-?” He couldn’t really form a proper sentence, the words eluded him and he was convinced that this was the epitome of a bad idea.

 

“Tomorrow, The Black Prince, 5 o’clock sharp.” His tone was demanding and left no room for argument. 

 

“I- erm...” Eggsy didn’t even know what to say. What _do_ you say to something like that? That man knew his story, he knew his troubles, he knew the pub he went to, he knew his name, meanwhile Eggsy didn’t know _shit_ about this Harry Hart. 

 

“Stay safe, Eggsy. Don’t get into any more trouble tonight, alright?” His voice was so posh and concerned with an edge of amusement that Eggsy - despite his serious doubts about this situation - couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips.

 

“Can’t promise nothin’, I’m my own safety hazard, remember?”

 

Harry laughed and warmth bloomed inside Eggsy’s chest again. Eggsy didn't know if it was the alcohol that made him go bonkers and agree to this _date_ or his curiosity. Then again, he _was_ more of a dog than a cat person.

 

“See you... tomorrow, I guess?” He mumbled then, still a bit flustered and quite nervy.

 

“I’m looking forward to that. Goodnight, _Eggsy_.”

 

“Yeah, alright... bye, _Harry_.”

 

They disconnected and when Eggsy was left in silence, staring at his phone, his heart was still beating wildly. He started to type, his eyes and fingers concentrating on the task, before he slipped his phone back into his pocket and pushed off the wall, entirely too sober and excited after this phone call and with one more number to memorise. But until then, his mystery man was ingrained into his head and saved in his phone as _Mr. Harry Hart_.


End file.
